Selections From My Parents’ Collection Of Depressing Art
As promised, here’s a quick glance at some of the paintings that have long haunted the walls of Casa de Greene. All are clickable for embiggening.
Last night, my father pointed to this painting and said, “I never told you the story about that one. I saw it someplace in Spain, and I liked it, so I bought it. Had to carry it under my arm on the plane.” And you thought Ulysses was an epic tale! I guess I can understand how a person could be transfixed by this girl in mourning, but it’s always bothered me how her tears are falling at exactly the same rate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen in real life, which must mean the girl in this painting is a witch.
Here is a boy, sitting in a rotted out lifeboat, staring across a field at an ominous-looking barn. Is that barn where he watched helplessly as Death claimed his grandpapa? Maybe he’s waiting for someone to come out of the barn to tell him dinner’s ready. I was always cognizant as a child of how I sort of resembled the kid depicted here, so I grew up with an irrational fear of being abandoned in a wooden boat in a flowery field. Also, I don’t think this kid is wearing shoes, and that bothers me even more.
Sorry for the reflections in these next two. I think the dog looks super cold in this one. I’d love to paint a blanket over him, or at the very least attach a Colorform blanket on top of the glass frame so he shivers no more. Believe it or not, a duplicate print of this painting hung in the living room set of ’90s sitcom “Step By Step,” which is one of the only reasons I ended up regularly watching that show (the other reason: Staci Keenan).
My father hates this depiction of rural American life, but my mom loves it. The landscape here isn’t very dissimilar to portions of my hometown in Connecticut, which perhaps explains why there’s been no mass migration there since the pilgrims first came over.
And here we have the most frightening painting of them all—a rendering of yours truly at the age of three. I have the vaguest of memories regarding the arrival of this masterpiece to my parents’ home. Years later I would learn it was given to my father in lieu of a rent payment from a tenant in some building he owned. That’s almost as crazy as the collar I’m rockin’ here. I think I could pick up HBO on that thing. But seriously, folks, this thing makes me laugh from embarrassment every time I so much as think about it.
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My second book is called Brave Punk World: The Internat’l Rock Underground From Alerta Roja to Z-Off and it is now available for purchase. It’s about the development of punk rock in other countries. All the info you want / need about it is right here (click here!).
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